


Renegades

by dracoqueen22



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Amalgamated Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-02-28 23:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18766330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: No one could ever know, that was what they agreed. Until Perceptor walked in on them, and suddenly, Wheeljack and Starscream had a choice to make.





	1. Chapter 1

Wheeljack stopped being offended by the teasing that surrounds his scientific progress ages ago. The truth was, things only exploded because he wanted them to explode, and if it seemed like an accident, it was because he wanted it to seem like an accident.   
  
The true key to being a genius was in pretending to be an idiot.   
  
He liked his privacy, for all that he was social. He liked to push the boundaries of what was possible without Perceptor leaning over his shoulder and questioning the usefulness of an invention or Quark correcting his mathematical calculations. He liked being able to create without Prowl wandering in on the daily and asking him to weaponize it. And he preferred being able to theorize aloud without Brainstorm overhearing and adding in his outrageously ridiculous two creds worth.   
  
Wheeljack liked his private laboratory, which was now required to be at a minimum of three hundred yards from the Autobot base. It was connected by a long tunnel with explosives built into the walls to collapse it if need be, on the off chance something terrible might make its way back to the base.   
  
Wheeljack didn’t feel ostracized. He felt liberated.   
  
He still had visitors. He wasn’t lonely. There were those brave enough to poke their noses into his experiments, but those visitors always announced themselves. Sideswipe had been the first and last to learn not to startle Wheeljack. Sometimes, he toyed with volatile chemicals! If someone made him drop them, that was hardly his fault.   
  
Sunstreaker fumed. It took ages for him to buff the scratches out. It took even longer for Sideswipe to be in a state where he could be buffed and repainted.   
  
Anyway. Besides the point.   
  
Wheeljack was not offended. He loved it. He thrived in it. He reveled in it. That it came with an unexpected bonus was even more reason to enjoy his solitude. It was a private, protected place he could meet his partner, and no one knew. No one tracked them. No one had the slightest clue.   
  
His isolated laboratory was a little oasis in the midst of the storm and turmoil that was the never-ending Cybertronian civil war.   
  
He possibly spent more time in it than he ought. But Prowl encouraged it -- any weapons today, Wheeljack -- and Ratchet was too busy to protest too much, so long as Wheeljack didn’t spend every evening recharging on the spare berth in the back.   
  
“Thanks for the help, Percy. You saved me a trip,” Wheeljack said as Perceptor dropped the resupply crate on top of the one Wheeljack had already set down.   
  
Perceptor nodded almost absently, his thoughts no doubt elsewhere, perhaps on his own boring and non-explosive experiments. He was a theorist, whereas Wheeljack was a practitioner. Sometimes, they clashed; sometimes, they worked in perfect sync.   
  
“What are you working on right now?” Perceptor asked. He traced the symbols on the side of the crate, head tilted in contemplation of the alchemical glyphs.   
  
Wheeljack rolled his shoulders and whipped out a crowbar, cracking it into a gap in the wood slats. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Nothing too revolutionary. Busy work really.”   
  
“As one does.” Perceptor nodded again, and Wheeljack wondered if he’d even registered any of their conversation. He was gone on his own experiments, probably eager to get back to whatever he and Skyfire were currently concocting.   
  
Two peas in a pod those two, as the humans would say. It was kind of adorable to watch them chatter while the other Autobots stared at them in blank comprehension. Quark could sometimes follow it, though his scientific acumen took another course. Brainstorm understood about as much as Wheeljack did.   
  
Wheeljack checked the time.   
  
He clapped Perceptor on the shoulder and steered him toward the tunnel back to base. “Anyway, thanks again. I owe you a favor.” He might have pushed Perceptor a little faster, not that Perceptor seemed to notice. “Lemme know if Ratch doesn’t take a break soon. I’ll sic a twin on him.”   
  
He finally managed to snag a moment of Perceptor’s full attention. A small smile curved Perceptor’s lips, followed by a little chuckle.   
  
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Perceptor said. “Call me if you need anything.”   
  
“Sure. Later!”   
  
Wheeljack watched him go, closed the door behind him, and locked it. For safety, he’d claim if anyone asked why he’d wanted a locking mechanism. He had dangerous, volatile substances. He shouldn’t be startled. He needed fair warning.   
  
There was nothing weird about locking the door.   
  
“A little warning would’ve been nice.”   
  
Wheeljack turned slowly, refusing to feel guilty. “He offered to help, and it would’ve been weird to say no.” He circled around one of the lab desks, where his partner loitered in the open doorway of the berthroom.   
  
Ratchet hated the berthroom, by the way. It was harder to keep an eye on Wheeljack when he slept in his lab, but Wheeljack had effectively argued for keeping it. No one had to know why he really wanted it. Some secrets were better kept.   
  
Starscream chuckled and stepped out of the shadows, his paint gleaming, his wings giving little twitches to betray his pleasure. “You Autobots and your manners,” he drawled as he folded one arm over his belly and examined the talontips of the other. “Such useless things sometimes.”   
  
“They have a purpose in a civilized world,” Wheeljack said with a laugh. “Not that we’re living in one.”   
  
Starscream rolled his optics. “That is painfully true.” He twisted his wrist and crooked a finger at Wheeljack. “Get over here.”   
  
“So bossy.” Wheeljack grumbled but obeyed, because his spark was pounding a mile a minute, and heat flushed through his lines. It had been weeks since Starscreamfound a chance to slip away and meet.   
  
He had to embrace whatever moments they could spare, so few and far between they were.   
  
“Just this little bit,” Starscream said before they embraced, and Wheeljack rose to the tips of his feet to reach Starscream’s mouth for a kiss, his battlemask sliding aside at the last minute.   
  
Wheeljack hummed with affection as Starscream’s tongue slid into his mouth, tasting of the sweet engex Wheeljack kept on stock for him, for the times Starscream was here and Wheeljack couldn’t be. The Decepticons were perpetually under-energized, and Wheeljack hated it. He helped wherever he could, once he convinced Starscream to accept the assistance.   
  
It wasn’t charity. It was Wheeljack looking after his conjunx the way he was supposed to.   
  
“Mmm. Good afternoon,” Wheeljack said against Starscream’s lips. His hands wandered, palms skating over armor panels and seams, subtly checking for dents or hidden marks.   
  
“I’m not damaged,” Starscream said, clearly noticing Wheeljack’s efforts. He wasn’t skilled in being subtle. “Not this time.”   
  
“Just checkin’.” Wheeljack’s indicators throbbed a slow, lazy blue. “How’re things?”   
  
Starscream nuzzled him, his field settling warm and fuzzy around Wheeljack, like an echo of their embrace. “Not now. Later.”   
  
“That bad, huh?”   
  
“Shhh.”   
  
Wheeljack hushed.   
  
Buried in Starscream’s field was a familiar anger, a familiar frustration. Whatever new attempt he’d made at bringing the Decepticons toward peace or a truce or even a temporary pause to the madness, must have failed. He hadn’t been punished for it. Or if he had, he’d had time to be patched up since then.   
  
There were times Wheeljack hated Megatron. Hated the Decepticon warlord with every bolt in his frame and every spin of his spark. Here lately, that hate was growing into a slow-boiling simmer, beneath his armor and in the depths of his processor.   
  
Sometimes, he brainstormed, and it didn’t even require Prowl asking him for a new weapon, for Wheeljack to think of creative ways to remove Megatron from the equation.   
  
“Anything I can do to help?” Wheeljack asked as he slid a palm up Starscream’s back, finding the mounts for his wings and giving them a very gentle stroke.   
  
Starscream shivered, melting a little in Wheeljack’s arms. “That’s a good start.” He ex-vented over the nearest of Wheeljack’s indicators, and a bloom of heat rose in his wake. “Another kiss would be better.”   
  
“That I can do.”   
  
Wheeljack cupped the back of Starscream’s neck and pulled him down for another kiss, a lazy tangle of glossa, his field pressing in on Starscream with warmth.   
  
This was their secret, carefully hidden through the course of a war that had done its best to divide Cybertron down the middle. One had to be either or. There was no striding the line of neutrality, no riding any fences.   
  
They’d argued.   
  
As it became clearer that there would be no peace brokered between Megatron and his rightful anger, and the Senate and their stubborn pride, Starscream and Wheeljack had argued about their own choices. They’d said many things that later required apologies. They’d made choices out of bitterness and hurt.   
  
They’d ended up on opposite sides.   
  
For centuries, Wheeljack ached and blamed himself, and watched Starscream across the battlefield with worry, and whatever vestiges of anger he’d born, had dissolved as the decades passed. All he wanted was his lover again.   
  
As it turned out, Starscream felt the same.   
  
Apologies were had. Promises were made. Secrets were born.   
  
No one could ever know.   
  
Wheeljack did not tell Ratchet. He reveled in the solitude and the opportunity his private lab afforded him. Meanwhile, Starscream shared nothing with his trine. He became adept at sneaking away from time to time, making himself scarce from the Decepticons. No one seemed to care when Starscream vanished.   
  
Too many Decepticons disappeared to lick their wounds after all.   
  
“Brought you some supplies,” Wheeljack said as he pressed his forehead to Starscream’s, soaking in the pulse of his partner’s field, the familiar scent of him. “Just let me know what else you need. I’ll have it for next time.”   
  
“You’re too good to me.”   
  
“Impossible.” Wheeljack snorted and dragged one hand down Starscream’s arm, tangling their fingers together. “So. We’ve got a few hours at least. However shall we fill the time?”   
  
Starscream snorted and slipped his talons into one of Wheeljack’s seams, teasing the cables beneath. “I can think of a few things,” he purred, nuzzling his way into Wheeljack’s throat, the rumble of his voice sending a warm shiver down Wheeljack’s spinal strut.   
  
"Berth?" Wheeljack suggested. He teased Starscream's wing mount again, soaking in the pulse of desire humming through Starscream's field.   
  
"Yes," Starscream pressed a knuckle under his chin, tilting his head up, brushing their lips together before finishing with a kiss.   
  
Wheeljack hummed, the slick slide of Starscream's glossa over his scars sending a wave of heat through his frame. Starscream loved his scars. Wheeljack had never been so proud of them as when Starscream lavished them with love.   
  
Primus, he wished this stupid war was over. He wanted to recharge next to his conjunx and wake up next to his conjunx and share energon with his conjunx and create useless things next to his conjunx. He wanted to stop pretending he hated Starscream, and stop watching every battle with dread pooling in his spark and fear haunting his night purges.   
  
He wanted so, so much.   
  
"I'm sorry, Wheeljack, I just realized--"  
  
Wheeljack tore away from Starscream, putting his back to his conjunx, slotting himself between Starscream and Perceptor, who'd just let himself into Wheeljack's laboratory because he could do that, he had the code. It was a security measure. Only he and Ratchet were trusted with it, and he always pinged before coming.   
  
 _Always._    
  
Wheeljack's spark throbbed with fear. Starscream's field spiked with unease, with tension, and Wheeljack heard the whine of his null-rays charging.   
  
Perceptor stared at them, optics wide, jaw dropped, words devolving into static.   
  
 _It's not what it looks like_ , was the first thing Wheeljack wanted to say, except that was a lie and it was exactly what it looked like, and he’d never throw Starscream under the bus to save himself.   
  
"System Lock, No Overrides," Wheeljack said instead, and the door slid shut behind Perceptor, sealing him inside. Sealing all three of them inside, point of fact. Wheeljack would have to rewire the lock just to get out.   
  
"I... forgot to let you know I borrowed your scintillator," Perceptor said, his vocals a little faint, his face pale as though all of the energon had drained from his dermal net. "I thought, given what you were working on, you might need it."   
  
Wheeljack worked his intake, and belatedly realized his battlemask had snapped shut. "Yeah. I would've needed it." He took a step backward, bumping into Starscream, and reached blindly for Starscream's hand.   
  
Long, thin fingers tangled with his, squeezing tightly. Starscream's vents wheezed; his field was a frantic flutter. But he said nothing. It was probably for the best.   
  
"Yes. I suspected as much." Perceptor nodded slowly, his gaze darting past Wheeljack to Starscream. He hadn’t made a move for his weapon yet, but then, Perceptor rarely armed himself while on base. "I apologize. If I'd known you had a visitor I would've pinged."   
  
Wheeljack heard a clatter, and realized it was his armor. He was terrified, not for himself, because he didn't care about the personal consequences. But for Starscream.   
  
He didn’t know what the Autobots would do, what Prime and Prowl and Ironhide and Ultra Magnus would do, if they knew the Decepticon second-in-command was within reach. Wheeljack didn’t want to fathom cells and restraints and interrogation and torture.   
  
He didn’t want to fight his friends and fellow Autobots. He would do it, but damned if he didn’t want to.   
  
"Yeah. Listen, Perceptor, just let me explain--"  
  
Perceptor shook his head, and a very, very small smile started to curve his lips. "You don't have to. It makes sense." He paused, lips pressing together, before he looked straight at Starscream. "Have you heard from Deadlock lately?"   
  
Starscream's sharp intake surprised Wheeljack, though the name was unfamiliar to him. "He's on the outer rim, guarding one of our mining outposts." Starscream's free hand rested on Wheeljack's shoulder. "Punishment duty."   
  
"Turmoil?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"I should have known." Perceptor's smile softened into one of relief and longing. Tension bled out of his frame, his seams extending. "At least he's alive."   
  
"Last I heard." Starscream tightened his grip on Wheeljack's fingers, but the shrill whine of his null-rays petered out. "You're the one they suspected him of conspiring with?"   
  
Perceptor stepped a little further into the laboratory and snagged the nearest stool, dragging it over to perch atop it. "It was a calculated risk that backfired." He cycled an audible ventilation and scrubbed a hand over his forehead. "So you don't have to worry. Your secret is safe with me, as much as I trust you'll now keep mine."   
  
Wheeljack allowed himself to relax, though Starscream remained tense behind him. He leaned in close, murmuring into Wheeljack’s audial. “You trust him?”   
  
“It’s not in Percy to lie,” Wheeljack replied with absolute conviction. Perceptor was many things -- stubborn about the rigors of trigonometric calculations for one -- but a liar was not in his purview. “I believe him.”   
  
Besides, it was very, very difficult to fake the kind of longing he could sense in Perceptor’s field. Wheeljack knew that longing. He’d tasted it too many times himself. He knew how it felt to love someone you could only see in moments.   
  
“There’s more of us,” Perceptor said, leaning forward a bit, as though trying to catch their attention, no doubt aware of the tension still sizzling in the air.   
  
“Explain,” Starscream demanded.   
  
Perceptor’s hands scrubbed down his thighs. “I can’t betray any confidences, but there are others like us. Relationships built across cross-factional lines. People who want nothing more than for the war to be over.” He frowned, his gaze turning distant and wistful. “We have been fighting for a very long time.”   
  
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Wheeljack said, then he almost smacked himself in the forehead because it was quite obvious  _why_.   
  
Perceptor didn’t call him an idiot at least. “That’s a good thing.” His lips twitched, like he was trying to smile and failing. “We cover for each other. Try to watch out for one another’s partners on the battlefield. And of course, we’re working to find a solution.”   
  
Starscream scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. There can’t be more Decepticons sneaking around behind Megatron’s back. There’d be a riot.”  
  
Perceptor lifted his chin, and there was something defiant in the way he held himself, how he set his shoulders back and straightened where he sat. “You should ask Skywarp where he spends his nights when you can’t find him.”  
  
Well, okay, apparently there were some confidences Perceptor was allowed to divulge. Though now Wheeljack was insanely curious which Autobot had a teleporting Seeker as their romantic partner? Sideswipe? Hot Rod?  _Tracks_?   
  
Starscream’s engine growled; Wheeljack felt the vibrations of it against his backplate. “I’m going to murder him.”  
  
Wheeljack chuckled before he could stop himself, and the last of the tension drained out of his frame. He believed Perceptor. He trusted Perceptor. “That would be a little hypocritical of you, wouldn’t it, Starshine?”  
  
“That’s not the point.” Starscream sniffed, offended, and in his periphery, Wheeljack caught the irritated flick of Starscream’s wingtips.   
  
Primus, but he loved his contrary Seeker.   
  
Wheeljack patted Starscream’s hand. “I know. So what do you say? Can we let Perceptor go?”  
  
Starscream snorted. “We certainly can’t kill him.” Amusement lurked in the harmonics of his vocals, and his field teasingly poked at Wheeljack’s, warm with affection on the edges.   
  
“See? I knew you had a spark in there.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Wheeljack looked at Percepto,r and his own spark ached at the longing in Perceptor’s gaze. He’d have to see if Starscream could do something about transferring Deadlock to Earth.   
  
He squeezed Starscream’s hand again before drawing away, and considered it a victory when Starscream didn’t immediately drag him back into protective range.   
  
“I trust you,” Wheeljack said as he locked optics with Perceptor. “So I’m going to let you walk out of here. And we’re both going to pretend this didn’t happen.”  
  
Perceptor slid off the stool. “Agreed. Though if you’re amenable, we could certainly use more minds. You and Starscream both.”  
  
Wheeljack pulled out his tools and flicked off the panel for the door controls. “What do you mean?” He rewired the system without looking, most of his focus on Perceptor.   
  
“We meet on Tuesdays,” Perceptor said as the door slid open with a cheerful beep, admitting him to the long, dim hallway. He stepped out, turning back to face Wheeljack and Starscream. “Maybe you two are what we need to turn the tide. To figure out a way to end this.”   
  
“Megatron won’t go quietly.”   
  
Wheeljack startled. Primus but Starscream could move quietly when he put his mind to it. Wheeljack didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way his conjunx could sneak around, even just to peer over Wheeljack’s shoulder.   
  
“Perhaps. But that’s a discussion for Tuesday.” Perceptor’s lips twitched into a genuine smile. “I’ll leave you be. Time, after all, is not something those like us have to spare.” He paused and that wistful look returned to his optics. “Take care of each other.”   
  
He turned, and he walked away.   
  
Wheeljack’s spark ached for him.   
  
Starscream reached over his shoulder, tweaked the tools Wheeljack had dangling in the door controls, and the door slid shut, locking in place. He’d still have to fix it properly, but for now, they were safely ensconced and alone.   
  
“Do you think that was a mistake?” Wheeljack asked.   
  
“I think that there are few good actors among the Autobots, and Perceptor is not one of them.” Starscream slid his arms over Wheeljack’s shoulders, pulling him back into a warm embrace. “Though I’m rather curious who Skywarp has been courting among the Autobots. He and I will have words.”   
  
"Friendly ones, I hope," Wheeljack turned and pressed a kiss to Starscream's elbow, all he could reach at the moment. "We need allies."   
  
"According to Perceptor, we have many."   
  
"Maybe just enough." Wheeljack dared to nurture a tiny seed of hope in his spark. "What do ya say? Wanna try and plan another insurrection?"   
  
Starscream snorted and brushed his fingers over Wheeljack's chestplate. "Well, at least it'll keep me predictable."   
  
Wheeljack laughed and pulsed affection through his field. "That's very true. But until then, how about we get back to that berth since we were interrupted?"   
  
Starscream's hand skated lower, across Wheeljack's abdomen to tease right above his array plate. "If we're going to get caught, it might as well be in the throes of pleasure." He hummed, slightly discordant, but the sound of it sent waves of arousal through Wheeljack's sensornet nonetheless.   
  
Wheeljack chuckled and spun in Starscream's embrace, grabbing his Seeker's hand to tow him toward the berthroom, Starscream's amusement chasing after him. Maybe nothing would happen, maybe they'd be overrun by alarms and angry Autobots. Or maybe, just maybe, they now had the means to plan an end to the war.   
  
Either way, Wheeljack would never regret being with Starscream.   
  
Never.   
  


***


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream confronts Skywarp about his Autobot lover and they both learn a little something about one another.

“So what’s his name?”   
  
Skywarp didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know who had disturbed his semi-private shower. They had shared washracks, not private ones, though sometimes he could pop into Starscream’s SIC quarters and use his if Starscream was feeling generous that day.   
  
Not that Starscream often felt generous. He could be possessive most of the time, and had to be in a good mood to feel like sharing. Good moods were few and far between, with Megatron huffing and puffing all the time. Though sometimes, Starscream could disappear for a day or so, and come back with the closest thing to a smile Starscream could produce.   
  
Skywarp often wondered why.   
  
Anyway, Skywarp didn’t have to look to identify the owner of the voice, because he’d know that voice anywhere. Starscream’s vocalizer was pretty damn distinctive.   
  
“Since when have you cared whose berth I’m in?” Skywarp asked as he scrubbed harder at the white marks on the inside of his thighs. Plenty of mechs had white paint. It was hardly incriminatory.   
  
He was usually pretty good about keeping evidence off his frame, but he was riding hard this time, and had lost himself to the pleasure. What was it about Autobots that revved his turbines so much? Well, not Autobots in general.   
  
Just one Autobot.   
  
“I’ve always cared. But usually I can figure it out without having to ask.” Starscream leaned against the wall of the stall, arms crossed over his cockpit, and on anyone else, that pose would be casual.   
  
There was nothing casual about Starscream. He was cunning and dangerous and purposeful. Which meant he wasn’t asking because he didn’t know. He was asking because he disapproved.   
  
He couldn’t know about Mirage. So it had to be someone else.   
  
No one knew about Mirage.   
  
“Why does it matter?” Skywarp asked, and cursed himself because he couldn’t have sounded more guilty if he tried.   
  
He ground his denta and checked his thighs. Free of paint. He wondered if there were any other incriminatory marks. The full-length mirror was past Starscream, in the main part of the washrack.   
  
Starscream pushed off the wall and took two steps into the stall, his footsteps echoing around them. A touch dragged up Skywarp’s lower back, toward his wing hinge.   
  
“You missed a spot here,” he said, with a drawl. “An interesting shade of blue, Skywarp. Don’t think I’ve seen that anywhere on base.”   
  
Skywarp whirled around, whipping away from him, his back to the spray. “You’re that familiar with all the shades of blue?” he demanded, spark whirling with anxiety, prepping to warp at any second. “Didn’t know you saw that many berths, Star. Are you telling me the rumors are true?”   
  
A spike of fury filled the washrack, and Starscream’s face went through a bevy of emotion. He never was good at hiding his anger. Skywarp would have crowed in victory, if he wasn’t already bracing for a hard knock and a quick getaway. He knew it was a low blow and a point of contention for his wingmate, but desperate times and all that.   
  
But then Starscream did something weird.   
  
Instead of lashing out, he folded his arms, drew a long, deep ventilation, and cocked a hip. His wings stopped twitching. He gave Skywarp a hard look.   
  
Who was this rational Starscream and what had he done with the quick-to-temper Seeker Skywarp had come to know?   
  
“Points for trying,” he said, in a controlled tone. “But I know a misdirect when I hear one. Call me a berthhopper if you like, but it’s not going to distract me from asking which Autobot berth you’ve been sneaking off to.”   
  
Frag   
  
 _Frag, frag, frag, frag._    
  
Time go get the frag up out of here.   
  
Starscream snatched his elbow, and Skywarp grounded in place before he could finish initiating the warp. Damn but his wingmate knew him far too well. He knew Skywarp wouldn’t teleport to flee while he was in contact with the person he was attempting to escape.   
  
It would be pointless to take the enemy with him. Unless, of course, they were grounders, and he popped up thousands of feet in the air, only to let them drop. It was actually a pretty effective battle tactic. Especially with those blasted twins.   
  
Though Mirage didn’t like it when Skywarp dropped his friends from great heights. So Skywarp didn’t do it anymore.   
  
“Let me go!” Skywarp hissed, defensive protocols spiraling up, his blasters priming to fire. His thoughts slammed together and scattered through a dozen aborted plans of action.   
  
“I’m sorry.”   
  
Skywarp froze. “What?” he demanded, optics wide. He didn’t know Starscream was aware of the meaning of those words. He’d certainly never heard Starscream say them.   
  
“You heard me.” Starscream scowled and let him go, folding his arms again, his shoulders hunching. “I’m not angry. I’m not going to report it. I just want to know.”   
  
Skywarp narrowed his optics. “Why?”   
  
Starscream pressed his mouth together. His lips formed a thin line. He glared.   
  
A lightbulb burst to life over Skywarp’s head. His optics widened. “Oh, Primus! Do you--”   
  
Starscream’s hand slapped over his mouth. “Shut up, you idiot. You want the whole base to know and get me killed?” He snarled.   
  
Skywarp nodded behind Starscream’s hand, grabbed him by the wrist, and  _tugged_. The world turned sideways around them, and the familiar freefall sensation of sliding through space swept him up until he landed with a thump in the quarters he shared with Thundercracker.   
  
TC wasn’t home. Skywarp didn’t know where he was. He didn’t always share his schedule with Skywarp. They all had secrets.   
  
Good.   
  
It meant he wasn’t here to yell at Skywarp for dripping on the floor. He hadn’t dried off properly. He teleported here straight from the washrack.   
  
Starscream jerked away from him. “I hate when you do that without warning.”   
  
“You wanted to talk about this somewhere in private!”   
  
“When did I say that?”   
  
Skywarp snatched a towel from the floor on his side of the room and scrubbed at the suds still slicking his armor. He thought back on their conversation. “Didn’t you?”   
  
Starscream sighed and scraped a hand down his face, only to pinch the bridge of his nasal structure. “Why did I think this conversation would go any other way?”   
  
The silence of the room wrapped around them. Their room wasn’t soundproof, and if Soundwave was paying attention, he would probably pick up on what they were saying. But it was the closest thing to privacy without leaving the ship, and they couldn’t do that either.   
  
They had to be around for Megatron to summon Starscream whenever he felt like it. Had a pattern, Megatron did, and when he’d finished sulking about losing to Optimus Prime, and drowning his disappointment in high grade, he’d pick himself up off the floor, summon Starscream, and demand a new plan of action. He’d demand an impossible solution.   
  
It was a pattern.   
  
Skywarp was as loyal a Decepticon as they come. But he was tired, and they weren’t getting anywhere, and it was frustrating.   
  
“Mirage,” he admitted, staring at the floor, wicking away the last of the solvent from his seams. He dropped the towel, stepped on it, half-sparked swiping over the dribbles he’d made on the floor. “I’ve been seeing Mirage for a few decades now.”   
  
“And here I thought you didn’t have it in you to be sneaky,” Starscream said, but there was surprisingly little anger or disgust in his voice. He sat on Thundercracker’s berth, one ankle folded over the other, and leaned back. “More than a fling then.”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“There is so much I don’t know about you.”   
  
Skywarp picked up the towel, balling it between his hands. “There’s a lot you don’t know, period. We stopped asking each other questions centuries ago. We stopped caring.”   
  
Starscream narrowed his optics. “That’s not true.”   
  
“Isn’t it?” Skywarp lobbed the dirty towel toward the corner, joining a pile of others he’d been meaning to take to recyc. “How’d you find out?”   
  
Starscream clamped his mouth shut. His gaze skittered elsewhere, but his ailerons twitched, and Skywarp had flown alongside Starscream for too long not to recognize when he wanted to be evasive.   
  
“Hey,” Skywarp said. “You don’t get to drag my most dangerous secret out of me and not tell me why or how you find out or what Autobot you’re fragging either.”   
  
Starscream’s gaze shot toward him, his field spiking with outrage. “He’s my conjunx, not some roll in the berth,” he snapped.   
  
Skywarp stared at him. “You have a conjunx?”  
  
Starscream shifted. Discomfort radiated from him. “Since before the war,” he muttered and wiped a hand down his face again. “For the most part. It’s complicated. He’s an Autobot, and if I hadn’t been so stubborn, maybe we wouldn’t have ended up on opposite sides.”   
  
Holy fragging Primus.   
  
Skywarp’s processor whirled. It was like his entire universe had spun on an axis. He knew about Deadlock, of course, thanks to the Tuesday meetings. Just like he knew about Onslaught and Knock Out. But Starscream?   
  
Damn, he should have seen it coming. Starscream had always been aiming to take over and finish the war quickly. Skywarp had assumed it was purely because Starscream had a thing about power and lots of it. He didn’t think love was any kind of a factor.   
  
“Who is it?” Skywarp asked, suddenly greedy for information. There were so many tasty specimens in the Autobots -- though of course Mirage was the absolute best. Skywarp really wanted to know who could have tamed his wingmate.   
  
Starscream stared at him for a long moment before he ex-vented quietly. “Wheeljack.”   
  
“Really?” Skywarp tilted his head, contemplating. He supposed it made sense. They were both smart, and they were scientists, but Wheeljack was pretty plain looking. He thought for sure Starscream was going to say ‘Skyfire’. Everyone knew they had a history.   
  
“I guess you’ll see the proof on Tuesday,” Starscream drawled.   
  
“They told you about Tuesdays!” Skywarp slumped onto his own berth, his processor blown by all the new data. He had not thought today of all days would bring so many revelations. “This is kind of incredible though. I mean, we’ve all been trying to figure out a way to end the war, but with you, it might actually be possible.”   
  
Starscream’s wings fluttered, as they usually did when he was pleased. “Well, that’s surprising.”   
  
“What is?” Skywarp asked.   
  
“For you to have faith in me.” Starscream grinned, but there was nothing friendly in it. “Can’t remember the last time that happened.”   
  
Skywarp shifted and pulled himself further onto the berth, crossing his legs in front of him. “That’s not fair, Star. This is entirely different, and you know it.”   
  
“If that’s what you say to make yourself feel better about it.” Starscream thumped the berth beneath him. “What about Thundercracker? He secretly seeing an Autobot, too?”   
  
Skywarp pressed his lips together, but decided not to push. They could dismiss faith and the lack thereof later. “If he is, he hasn’t told me. Then again, you never said you were married to an Autobot, so I guess that’s fair.”   
  
“Married.” Starscream repeated the word like he was tasting it, then scrunched up his nose. “I hate the humans. I hate Earth. We should have left a long time ago.”   
  
Well, he wasn’t wrong.   
  
“We’re working on it,” Skywarp said, to agree. “But you’ll find out more on Tuesday.”   
  
Starscream chuckled, and there was something relaxed in it, something Skywarp hadn’t seen in a long, long time. “So I’ve been told.” He cycled a long ventilation and stood from the berth, brushing imaginary dust from his frame. “We have maneuvers first thing in the morning. Wherever Thundercracker is, remind him of them?”   
  
“I’m not your message boy,” Skywarp said, but Starscream was already striding toward the door, unconcerned.   
  
He paused, however, before hitting the panel to open it. He didn’t turn back to look at Skywarp, but he was clearly hesitating.   
  
“This thing with your Autobot, is it serious?” Starscream asked.   
  
Skywarp gnawed on his bottom lip. “You ever known me to stick around in one berth for longer than a week?”   
  
“Guess that answers my question.” Starscream laughed softly before he palmed the door open. “See you in the morning.”   
  
He stepped out and the door slid shut behind him, locking Skywarp into the quiet of his quarters. He ex-vented noisily and dropped wing-first onto the berth, groaning as he dragged his palms down his face.   
  
There were so many ways that could have gone so horribly bad. Instead, it had completely turned his universe on its axis.   
  
Primus, Starscream was a member of the club. Skywarp should have known. And Wheeljack! Wow, Mirage was going to flip a lid.   
  
Skywarp folded his arms behind his head and grinned.   
  
They actually had a chance now. He couldn’t frigging wait.   
  
***

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, as always, is welcome, appreciated, and encouraged. :)


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